Remember
by Red River
Summary: I remember. Not much, really. It's been a long twenty years. Magoichi introspective, first person oneshot. Magoichi and Hideyoshi friendship fic.


A/N: This is a friendship story for Magoichi Saika and Hideyoshi Hashiba/Toyotomi, inspired by their collective SW2 story modes. I never thought I'd write anything about Samurai Warriors, and I certainly didn't think it'd be about them if I did, Mitsuhide being my favorite character.

I did anyway, though, because I was actually impressed by the depth that Koei managed to put into their relationship. Magoichi, particularly, had a good deal of interiority/introspection in the game, and I tried to repeat that here.

The story is in two halves: part one is 1st person from Magoichi's POV, and the second is 3rd person omniscient. I hope that Magoichi's voice isn't horrible - he was a bit of a change from the character voices I'm used to writing in.

Oh, and I'm somewhat aware that Magoichi and Hideyoshi is a popular yaoi pairing. I don't buy it, though, and that's not my intention here. Just friendship. Let me know what you think.

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I remember.

Not much, really. I mean, hey – it's been a long twenty years, though I've gotta say I hate admitting I'm that old. At least it hasn't knocked my looks down a peg. But then, nothing ever could, could it?

Anyway, I've had a few nasty bumps on the head in all that time, what with the gun-slinging and the skirt-chasing and everything else you used to shake your head at. But that was only because you were jealous – you never could catch 'em like I could.

What can I say? I'm a ladykiller. Don't hate the player, hate the game.

But I meant it – I remember. Just a little bit of that summer we spent together in Nagoya. Fifteen years old: I hadn't gotten my stubble yet and you hadn't grown into your ears, so you looked even more like a monkey then than you do now. I guess that old nickname's my fault – you never know what's going to stick. I was just playing with you, though – just trying to get a rise.

Which always worked, because you're so damn gullible.

_Hey, Hiyoshi-maru,_ I'd yell from across the street, interrupting your talk with the farmer's daughter you never got up the nerve to peek over the bathhouse wall at. You'd glance over at me with those big self-conscious eyes of yours, begging me silently not to get involved as your girlfriend studied my handsome face instead of yours.

I never could help myself, though.

_With those ears, we ought to call you Hiyoshi-saru instead_._ Hiyoshi the Monkey, Hiyoshi the Monkey—_

Then you'd shake your fists at me and I'd take off down the street, running just fast enough to keep out of your reach and listen to your footsteps echoing behind me along with the cries of affronted street vendors. Eventually we'd stop, out of breath and flushing – me from the adrenaline, you from the laughter of that pretty young thing replaying in your ears. Then I'd let you hit me and we'd get into a wrestling match, and the neighbors would click their tongues in disdain, carrying tales of our conduct back to your father and mine.

Yeah, your old man never was too happy about that. Maybe I should've gone a little easier on you, but nothing was as fun as making you mad.

Well, almost nothing. The ladies come first, my friend. But we both agreed on that a long time ago, so I don't think that'd bother you to hear it, even today.

What I remember most is the heat. It was so hot that summer that we almost couldn't breathe – every day was like a thick cloud of steam sitting on the village, making us sweat every time we moved. Even the crickets were quiet – damn things. Do you remember how many nights they kept me up, just outside the door to your room where we pushed the futons away and tried to ward off the heat with paper fans?

Yeah, I'm temperature sensitive. So what? My sensitivity is just one more thing the ladies love about me.

At night, we couldn't sleep because of the aching clouds of heat that never went away, not a breath of wind stirring in the night. We'd run down to your father's well and throw buckets of water on ourselves while we were still fully clothed, soaking each other until we were shivering in spite of the heat. Then we'd sprawl out on your bare floor, each of us listening to the sound of the water sliding down our sleeves and pooling on the ground, and I'd roll over to try and keep as much of my body in the pools as possible, because it'd all be gone so soon and I knew that.

You used to tease that I woke up with a circle of dirt on my nose because I slept on my stomach. That's a lie, though – I still don't believe it. There's no way I would do something that undignified. You've gotta look cool at all times, my friend – you never know when a pretty girl might saunter along in need of an escort.

Which is your problem, really. You never look cool. Sorry, buddy – the truth hurts. But I thought you'd rather hear it from me.

The best were the nights when neither of us were tired, and we lay there staring at the ceiling like the dark planks were suddenly going to open into another world and pull us in – somewhere exciting, like the world of the ancient samurai that we play-acted in the backyard when we could get our hands on a couple of long sticks. I'd shift and put my arm under my head and you'd roll over onto your side, putting up with the heat of one part of your skin touching another so that you could look at me.

_Hey, Mago-shi_.

I'd raise an eyebrow like I hadn't been expecting your voice, letting my childhood name trail away into the darkness before I bothered to respond.

_Yeah?_

You'd adjust your position again, and as you did so one of the water droplets would roll down and settle on the tip of your nose, hanging off like an icicle before some motion or another sent it to the floor. Like I said: uncool. But kind of funny anyway. Maybe that's what Nene sees in you.

_What do you want to do? You know, after you get older,_ you'd clarify, as though I might mistake the question for an invitation to go find trouble right there and then. Yeah, right, pal – it was way too hot for troublemaking. And that's a pretty rare judgment, considering the trouble I dragged you into when we were younger. I can't even count the number of times old Tako chased us out of the bathhouse with a paddle…

I'd sigh, brushing back my bangs with a careless gesture that my mother swears I picked up from the village swindler. _You always have to ask that, don't you? I told you, Hiyoshi-maru – I want to be the biggest playboy in Japan._ I'd flash you a smile in the darkness, the smile that was carefully concealed by the shadows so that you couldn't tell that I didn't know if I were serious or not. _What could be better than that?_

It was a rhetorical question, bud – I never wanted an answer. I just wanted you to flare up in one of your jealous spurts and kick me in the shin, whining again about how unfair it was that I'd beaten you out in the looks department. Like that was my fault. I mean, yeah, I'm a cultivator, but there's something to be said for being born with it.

Which is why I could never help you out. I did tell you to watch that moustache, though. One more piece of good advice you never took.

Most of the time, you reacted just like I wanted – you had a hissy fit and I called you a little girl, and then we wrestled it out, because that's how boys always are. Most of the time. Actually, I guess there was only once that you didn't – funny that it's the one that sticks in my mind, huh?

Nobody who looks at you thinks much of you, Hiyoshi – that's why you always catch them off-guard when your mind and your mouth get in the same boat.

Yeah, that includes me. Still, after all these years.

_Hm._ You rolled over onto your stomach and then back again, digging into the dirt with your fingers even though I'd told you to drop the animal antics years before. _Hm… I don't know, Mago-shi._

You had such a funny smile as a kid. Well, it's still funny – funny-looking, that is, because your whole face is funny. No offense. But when we were kids, it was different than that, even. It was a completely open smile – totally honest. Which made it a little weird that there was always something sad about it.

_I don't know, Mago-shi._

My name sounded strange when you said it like that, as though you were testing each syllable for the first time because you weren't sure it was going to hold. You fidgeted, and smiled, and grimaced; a succession of expressions that looked more like masks, like the festival masks that your sister used to paint for us before she got married. Then you held perfectly still with your eyes closed, which was even weirder than the faces, since you were always moving as a kid.

_I don't know. I think the best thing of all would be…_

Damn, you had a naïve smile. A naïve smile that was so wise it was unnerving.

_I think the best thing would be ruling Japan. Ruling it better, you know – so that everyone could be happy. That's what I want to do._

I didn't know what to do with that. What do you say to your best friend when he's just laid a load like that on you? You probably would have said the right thing, if it had happened to you – you were always like that. A special talent for words, especially words of comfort.

Maybe that's why everyone follows you.

I did the only thing I could – I mocked you. _You? Rule Japan?_ Maybe my laugh sounded cruel, but it wasn't meant to be. You know how it is, buddy – I'm not so good at expressing myself. I mean, laying on the charm, hey – any day of the week. Point me at a woman and I'm all over it. But with you… it wasn't that simple, because I actually had to mean what I said.

_Come on, Hiyo-maru. That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. You're dreaming._

You just smiled again. The kind of smile I wish more people could see when they looked at you.

_Yep, I sure am._ You laughed through the hairs of your uneven moustache, the moon putting your face halfway between childhood and adulthood so that I almost wasn't sure for a minute who I was talking to. _I sure am, Mago-chi. But as long as I'm dreaming, why not dream big?_

I couldn't admit it at the time, but I can now: you totally floored me. I stared at you for a minute like you'd grown two heads, because the thought of pushing myself or actually working for something had never crossed my mind. You know how I am – all play and no work's my cup of saké. But you… you were never like that, were you? You were never selfish like I was. Like I am.

Then you pushed up to your knees and stumbled toward the door, bracing one hand on the wooden frame as you got that ape grin on your face. _I'm burning up. Let's go jump in the river, Mago-shi._

I think that's the only night you ever beat me in a race, then or now. Maybe that was because I couldn't put my whole heart into it. I kept staring at the back of your dripping shirt and thinking about your dream and mine, and wondering if it were too late to take mine back.

It didn't seem that great anymore, compared to yours. Maybe that's why, eventually, I followed you instead.

xxxxxx

"Hey, Mago!"

Saika Magoichi glanced up from the rifle he'd been carefully reloading, gazing across the crowded military campground to where a figure in yellow was waving at him as though possessed, his arm nearly threatening to come out of its socket with each energetic movement. Magoichi looked between the gun and his commander-in-chief for a long moment, and then he set his weapon carefully on the ground and moved across the campground at an ambling pace, walking more slowly because he could see that the other man was eager to talk with him.

Toyotomi Hideyoshi soon tired of waving, and his hands settled onto his hips, elbows sticking out at the unusual angles that his sharp frame had given him. "Hurry up," the warlord insisted, tapping one foot and then the other against the disturbed ground of his camp. "I'm going to lunch in town, and I'll go without you if I must."

Magoichi only laughed, holding up his hands in placation though he made no attempt to move faster. "Okay, okay – take it easy. There's no need to rush. It doesn't really suit a guy like me."

Hideyoshi sighed, cracking his knuckles to fill the time that seemed interminable to his restless limbs. "The only thing you ever rushed after was a pretty woman. But I'm starving, Mago – would it kill you to make an exception this once?"

A few more steps brought Magoichi within reach of his waiting comrade, and the musketeer slung an arm over his leader's shoulders before mussing up the shorter man's hair, earning him a squawk and a series of flails from the person beside him. "All right, cool it. What's the big hurry? You got a date or something?"

Hideyoshi shrunk under his hold, glancing around as furtively as the other man's grip allowed him. "Shh! My wife's still around. And of course I don't – but I was thinking it wouldn't hurt to do a little sightseeing, as long as we're in the area…"

Magoichi couldn't help the laugh that threw his head back and spiraled into the warm spring air, one hand rising to brush his ponytail over his shoulder again. "Sightseeing? Is that what they're calling it these days? Well, whatever you say, pal – I never get tired of sightseeing."

Hideyoshi tried to protest again, but Magoichi waved away his struggles and dropped his voice to a whisper as he led his friend toward the outer gates of the camp, his words soft enough that their twin boot treads almost swallowed them.

"But I bet I can still get more sightseeing in than you, Hiyoshi-maru. You never really grew into those ears."

Hideyoshi let out a strangled noise of aggravation and swung at Magoichi, his half-hearted fist as familiar as the mild taunt. But the rifleman was already off and running, his laughter and his footsteps echoing back against the sides of the tents and the gathered shields as he led his commander into the crowds and their bodies disappeared, vanishing as quickly as if the sea of cloth had truly drowned them.

From his place beside the command tent, Shima Sakon raised an eyebrow, glancing at the man beside him who was rolling a strategy scroll mindlessly between his hands. "What are those two doing?" Sakon asked, disbelief worming its way between the natural condescension in his voice.

Ishida Mitsunari only scoffed, not bothering to look up from the battle plans that engaged him. "They're playing," the warrior answered, earning an uncomprehending glance from the legendary swordsman at his side.

"Playing?"

Mitsunari shook his head, eyes derisive beneath the curtain of his bangs. "Some people never grow up, Sakon. Unfortunately."

After a moment of silence, the strategist raised his head, biting the inside of his lip as though he were reconsidering the figures that were long gone already, swept away in the tides of armor and silk moving in and out of their gates. Then a slight curve fell across the bad-tempered warrior's lips, too small to discern whether it were actually a smile or just the vestiges of an unwillingly awed smirk.

"I suppose… Lord Hideyoshi has always been a dreamer."

Perhaps Magoichi had always been a dreamer, too.


End file.
